


Better Friend

by dawnheart



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, College, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Jealousy, Light Angst, M/M, Making Up, Mutual Pining, Oblivious, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:07:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24465466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dawnheart/pseuds/dawnheart
Summary: Ransom starts hanging out with March and Holster feels insecure and not good about it.  Holster wants to do a better job of being Best Friend.
Relationships: Adam "Holster" Birkholtz/Justin "Ransom" Oluransi
Comments: 2
Kudos: 53





	Better Friend

Dirty gray clouds daub the sky like piles of sludge near street curbs. The world looks upside down, and Holster feels like a sludge pile as he lugs his textbooks across damp and slimy campus. This is curl up in bed weather—conditions of ideal coziness for waiting for Ransom to come home. Actually, if he's dreaming his biggest dreams, he and Ransom should already be watching TV before bed.

He mourns the beautiful and idyllic life he could be having with Ransom if Ransom didn't have to study.

But he loves Ransom's drive and motivation and he loves that Ransom wants to be a doctor and help people (and plus technically he has to study too) so he gets over his case of the Rainy Days and clicks the steel door bar and opens the library door, fighting the wind that only appears when anyone has to open the door to get into the library. He climbs the stairs and follows the endless circular corridors until he thinks he's found Ransom's spot.

With a mix of certainty, luck, and muscle memory, Holster approaches the table, watching Ransom's form grow bigger.

Ransom is hunched over, strong and steadfast, like a mountain. Holster knows Ransom has probably been in that exact position for a long time. On the table, his laptop is open, the cord sprawled like a dangling black tail. Ransom is washed in yellow-tinged light cracking through the gray clouds like a lesser-used Instagram filter.

Holster reaches the table and Ransom holds out his hand for a dap.

“Hey,” Holster says.

“What's up?”

Holster lumbers into the seat across from Ransom, and pulls out his economics stuff. “Micro, I guess.”

Ransom grins. “Bro, me too!” flipping over the cover of his microbio textbook so Holster can see.

Holster takes in the warmth and glee in Ransom's eyes. Even on hour bajillion of his study session Ransom is always happy to hang out with Holster. He has fun with Ransom no matter what they are doing, even if it's studying. Holster's heart turns mushy. “Bro.”

They fistbump.

Ransom can study for hours without break. Sometimes he only comes home after the library's closed. The man is a studying machine, so it is unlikely Holster caught him on the tail-end of a study session, partly because it is light outside and definitely not because it would be convenient for Holster to go home early because he is bored and hungry and not feeling accounting or marketing or finance or any of those things. He didn't plan on doing anything remotely productive today—maybe make slide outlines for his presentation next week. Maybe. And he definitely wasn't going to fill them in. Just choosing the PowerPoint theme, really. But now, in the library, he feels like he needs to be serious to support Ransom.

He finally reaches into the snack pocket in his backpack, delaying the inevitable, because he knows he only has crunchy inconvenient snacks. He paws around in the pocket, feeling the rough material, waving his hand around the empty space for good measure, and his heart sinks.

God, this sucks.

Holster is about to pry about Ransom's study progress, maybe something subtle like, “whoa you've covered so much today, bro, good job! How much more do you have left?” You know. Something subtle like that. Just to get a read on when they can go home and sit com and chill.

As if Ransom can hear Holster's thoughts (drift compatible!), Ransom lumbers up, like a bear shaking stiffness out of his muscles after hibernation. His chair makes only a gritty whisper against the rough, dark carpet, more like bumpy linoleum than anything soft and comfortable.

“I'm gonna get a snack,” Ransom says. “Do you want something?”

Holster's heart clutches because he seriously loves this man with everything he has. Holster hopes his eyes properly communicate all the love in the world he feels right now towards Ransom.

“Dude, yes.” To help, he says, “I love you, bro.”

Ransom smiles. Maybe he is in a study daze, too distracted by reactions or compounds or whatever.

“I love you, too, bro.”

“Do you want me to go?” Holster asks, “so you can keep studying?”

Ransom shakes his head. “I probably need to take a walk. Get the blood flowing.”

“Thanks, bro.” Holster puts a hand over his heart. “I am so proud of you for taking a break when you need it.”

Ransom reaches across the table and flicks him on the top of the head. “Shut up.”

Holster waves his hand away like it's a fly.

“Thanks, bro.”

Holster watches Ransom stretch his neck one way then the next, roll his shoulders, the image of Ransom's bare shoulders sparkling after a shower under the bright white locker room lights jumps to mind. Holster chirps him about his study posture interfering with practice tomorrow, while Ransom shakes out his hands and stretches his fingers.

Ransom broadens his chest an honest to god flexes. “Don't let staring at my sexy shoulders distract you from your Econ textbook.”

Holster smirks and with dark lidded eyes, says, “bro, you know I can do both.”

Ransom flicks him off and Holster catches it, as if Ransom blew a kiss instead, and put it in his (imaginary) front pocket.

Ransom gapes at him. “You are so weird.”

“Go get my snack, man.”

“So needy! Will that be all, my prince?”

“And hurry up,” Holster said, “I miss you already.”

Ransom opens his mouth, about to laugh. “Aw, I miss you too, bro. Okay, I'll hurry.”

Holster grins and watches Ransom walk to the end of the room and disappear behind a corner.

With Ransom gone, Holster's motivation is gone, too. Studying with someone else means he doesn't have to keep himself in check because the peer pressure is supposed to make him study.

He wasn't planning to do anything productive today anyway, so he probably doesn't need to guilt himself into doing anything. He lets his mind wander.

God, he is so hungry. Maybe it's only because he doesn't want to study. That happens sometimes and is very understandable and reasonable.

And had Ransom looked especially handsome in that shirt today? It's a deceptively simple navy t shirt, but Ransom looks so good in navy.

Every color looks good on him—he is blessed with a perfect complexion and skin tone. Holster's pale ass does not do so well in many colors, such as bright neon hues, but he wears them anyway because they're loud and it means he and Ransom can both look like douches together, even though Ransom thinks the salmon shorts are not douchey and he is wrong. It doesn't mean he doesn't look like a really attractive douche. He just looks good in all colors.

And the exact shade of today's navy shirt brings out the best of Ransom's everything.

He wishes Ranson would come back already. He doesn't even care about the snacks anymore. He's ready to go home. Being at the library is boring by himself. He feels extra tired under the depressed olden-timey library lights in the high ceiling.

When Ransom is here, Holster feels less distracted from his homework and less distracted by Ransom's handsomeness. Maybe he should notice it more when Ransom is here in front of his face, in his line of vision. But when Ransom is here, things feel normal, aka perfect and fun. He doesn't have to keep himself occupied with dangerous activities like thinking too long about how handsome Ransom is (or how fun Handsome Ransom is to say). Normally, he is too busy with whatever is going on in the moment—laughing or hockey practice or chirping their teammates—to worry about this kind of new development. Maybe it's not so new, something that has always been there which is why he hasn't noticed it until now because he has been distracted by his perfect life and living in the moment not reflecting on how suddenly Ransom's handsomeness is making him feel New Things.

He knows Ransom is attractive. That's a given. Holster is honest and not blind. And why would Holster need to lie about Rans' attractiveness?

When Ransom is here, he doesn't worry about how he maybe shouldn't be dwelling so much on how handsome Ransom is. So that's another reason on the list of million reasons why everything is better when Ransom is here.

Plus, he doesn't want to wonder how many is the normal amount of times a day to think your bro is attractive? And is Holster being homophobic (or more specifically, bro-homophobic, or bromophobic) by wondering this in the first place? And how can he ask Shitty, who would definitely know what to say, without getting a lecture? (Which Holster feels is unnecessary only because he already knows homophobia is bad, and all he needs to know now is if he is normal and not weird.)

Oh, how he wishes today could have been a sit com and chill with Ransom day.

And he wishes Ransom was back already.

He stretches and stares at the corner Ransom disappeared behind. A few people walk by, and tragically, none of them are Ransom.

When Ransom finally appears, relief and shock mix together like a tornado because Ransom is walking with a girl attached to his side, leaning into each other and giggling conspiratorially. He doesn't know what they could possibly be giggling about but they are definitely conspiring.

_What._

The girl and Ransom are engrossed with each other when they stop by their table. The girl holds up her phone and taps, nails popping off the glass like rain on a window sill. Ransom unlocks his phone and swipes through it.

“It was nice catching up,” the girl whispers.

“Yeah, it was nice to meet you again.”

“See ya.”

The girl walks away and before Holster can analyze Ransom's post-convo facial expression for possible hints of flirtation, he lobs a grubby crinkled bag of Sun chips and a cold damp saran-wrapped ham sandwich at Holster.

“Oh, so, that's why it took so long,” Holster says darkly as Ransom sits down.

“Shut up,” Ransom says, light and pleasant. He is distracted, and doesn't pick up on the snide and accusatory tone with no joking edge Holster probably shouldn't have used.

Ransom focuses on him, appraising. “What, you can't wait ten minutes before eating?”

“You were gone for half an hour!”

Ransom rolls his eyes hard. “Come on, man.”

Holster's throat feels dry. Did he forget to ask Ransom to get him water? He should have reminded Ransom. Normally Ransom would be in sync with him and know what he needs. They were in sync, in fact, until he met that girl. Ransom was distracted and if he hadn't been, he would have remembered on his own.

So yea, of course this is all her fault.

“And I was hungry.”

“Okay, bro, I'm sorry. I didn't realize.”

“It's fine, I'm just saying,” Holster says, still too petulant. “I thought you had to study.”

“Bro,” Ransom says, tapping his laptop awake.

Holster doesn't actually want to pick a fight—so he doesn't know why his voice, tone, words, and the part of his brain which controls all of those things doesn't get the memo. Plus, he doesn't exactly want to acknowledge that maybe he is jealous of a girl who talked to Ransom in front of Holster for fifteen seconds.

If they were at home in bed with a sitcom, none of this would have happened.

Ransom slams his laptop closed, and Holster jumps. Ransom snickers.

“Shut up,” Holster says.

“Why don't we go get something to eat? You're going to be hungrier after you eat that sandwich anyway,” Ransom says, stacking all his papers, marking his place in all his books with sticky tabs, and collecting all his highlighters and pens.

Holster shoves everything deeper into his backpack, and the zipper shrieks when he tugs it closed. “Whatever you say.”

Ransom squints at him, scrutinizing.

“Am I wrong?” Ransom checks, arrow-precision observational skills matching the sharp quirk of his eyebrow.

“Nah, bro, you never are. Let's go.”

Ransom is right about Holster still feeling hungry after eating the sandwich. But it's still weird how much impact this new girl has on Rans' study schedule.

And there's nothing else going on in Ransom's life right now that would cause some unprecedented disruption to make Ransom forget about his precious study schedule and make him change all his rules and there are _rules._ Rules have to be _followed._ What's the point of them then? The rules are supposed to help. They are supposed to be good and orderly, not restrictive—not in a bad way at least. Right? Isn't that the point? Isn't that why Ransom likes them so much and lives his whole life by them and makes them up for things that no one would think to regulate?

What is happening?

And, yeah, Holster cares about it a lot. That might also not be good.

Still, that evening, Holster gets his sitcom and chill, and he feels a little more settled, a little happier. He still feels guilty, underneath that: hatred towards a girl he doesn't know, related to how dashing and handsome she may or may not have thought Ransom looked when he was being super smug, is not a good look. It's irrational, and he is better than that. He is. There's no reason for him to be mad about someone else seeing how awesome Ransom is. (Ransom's smug look is unnecessarily hot. He's smart and he knows it—and Holster loves it.)

It's obvious, how awesome Ransom is. Would be pretty hard to miss it. As a good bro, maybe he should be more than happy show off his best bro at every chance he gets, to spread the good word about how awesome Ransom is, because he is so proud of him, and is proud to be his bro.

But it is also important to Holster that he is Ransom's number one fan. He hopes Ransom feels the same way about him, and also that he likes that Holster is his number one fan.

Maybe there's a word for this, fuck, it's on the tip of his tongue.

But he can't think of it.

Even though _Psych_ with Ransom soothes his soul, he still sags mournfully, body melting like butter, until Ransom runs his hands through his hair, massaging the back of his scalp gently. He leans into the touch (and tries not to act too much like a cat—but maybe it's already too late.)

In his chest, tension unfurls and happiness (and only very little spite, smugness, and protectiveness) splays out, like a cat in the sun.

The episode ends, the one about the seal, the aquarium, and the jewel smugglers, and Ransom only promised to watch one. Holster presses the space bar, pausing the screen on the credits, before the next episode can start automatically.

They lay silently. Holster feels through the tension in his arm and shoulder that Ransom is thinking of extracting himself to get up to the top bunk.

Holster leans down heavier.

Ransom sighs. He pats Holster's shoulders lightly. “Alright, up, up.”

“Five more minutes,” Holster says.

“You're going to fall asleep.”

“I won't,” Holster says, his treacherous voice throaty and rough from comfort. “1'm not even tired.”

Holster feels the disbelief—at his statement and at the nerve Holster has to start this whole negotiation anyway—pricking off of Ransom. He can almost feel the flick to the forehead.

Still, Holster tries the pout again. He's not sure it would work twice in one day. When Ransom sees it, disappointment snaps closed over his eyes like a curtain. He shakes his head.

Holster is feeling particularly determined and undeterred today. “I'd like it if you stayed,” Holster tries again.

“You know I have a 9am tomorrow. You're goingta be a bitch about it if I have to wake you up.”

Holster knows that. He tries to explain that he definitely would not be a bitch about it but actually he would. He sighs loudly and drops his legs off the bed, sitting hunched over under the top bunk, so Ransom can scootch off the bed.

They already did their nighttime routines before watching TV, so Holster snuggles into the too-short covers and bedsheets. He listens as Ransom shuffles around in the bathroom. The lights click off and the bed creaks as Ransom scales the ladder. The bed sighs as Ransom lies down.

“Good night,” Ransom says from above. “Love you, bro.”

“Good night. Love you, too.”

Obviously worrying about that girl has been a complete like waste of time and a complete over reaction and Holster should get back to his regular life, and what he has to look forward to tomorrow: notes and studying and Ransom and memes and study memes and like who even is this girl? Probably no one.

This weird thing is over now, everyone has an off day, maybe he was stressed about something and took it out on this girl, blah, blah, blah, whatever. But everyone can move on and things will be fine now.

So, everything is not fine.

First of all, the girl, March, invites Ransom to study with her. Gross. Study dates are gross.

Dates. They probably are dates, Holster imagines. Dates are gross.

Unless March is just a friend. Ransom studies with people from his major all the time.

It's just studying. It's just an invitation. It isn't anything. It's nothing.

But now that Holster thinks it's something he can't convince himself it's nothing.

Ransom is allowed to have fun with other people.

He's allowed to talk to people. Girls. He's always been allowed. “Allowed.” It's not even a thing like that—they don't _control_ each other. That would be crazy. They just happen to live very compatible lives. Until now, apparently. This whole time, all the satellite people have been extremely unimportant and nonthreatening, except now for this one girl.

Holster didn't think codependent was an insult when Nursey first said it (and he was far from the first to suggest it), but maybe it was supposed to be insulting.

He's not codependent. He doesn't have to notice Ransom's talking, texting, and flirting habits. He doesn't have to wonder what kind of dates he is going on. He doesn't have to pay attention to how Rans' schedule changed after he met March and they started maybe being a thing. What study and gym sessions have moved around, when he calls his mom, when he goes grocery shopping.

There's nothing different and nothing going on and if there is, then that's okay, and also none of his business because he wasn't noticing.

But as Ransom's best friend, isn't he allowed to be jealous? He doesn't want anyone else to have more fun with Ransom than Holster does.

And for all of Holster's Not Noticing Anything Strange Going On Here, he still can't figure out a chill super secret way to get any relevant information that would turn his conjectures and speculations into facts and fact-based panic.

Plus, a fun new litmus test he discovered, is that asking Nursey for a chill way to ask something means that no matter what Nursey or Holster said, it would not be chill to ask.

Apparently March has already been to Haus parties. Clearly she did not make the greatest first impression. That is not a problem Holster has, and he feels hot, thick smugness about it, like a coat of honey on toast.

Holster has never had any reason to lie to Ransom and he has never wanted to. It's one of their friend commandments—they always tell the truth to each other no matter what they say to other people. The limits of it have not been tested before because thus far it has been an easy one to follow (unlike having to switch off TV privileges. Letting Ransom choose scary truecrime shows before bed, if it were up to Holster, would not be allowed. As anxious as Ransom is, maybe he should avoid that scary stuff, but who's to say.)

The commandments work and are embedded in their daily life. They don't think about it because it's natural. It's never a hassle, burden, sacrifice, or something, because their friendship is worth it—worth everything. They don't need amendments or caveats because their friendship is simple and absolute. Like, it's simple to say that Ransom is important to him, and the trust and love they have between them is absolutely the most important thing to Holster. Their love is going to grow infinitely and forever.

But now that he has this probably unfair dislike of March and confusing possibly weird thoughts about Ransom which came at a completely inopportune time, Holster feels for the first time like he should keep certain information to himself.

While March is Ransom's fun new study buddy, Ransom and Holster are just as close on the ice. They click at practice and at games, they make plays, take names, and kick ass. Then, Jack tells them to clear their weekend, because they are going to be running a youth clinic.

Holster thinks that is strange and Ransom and Bitty light up. This is far from within their job description so Jack explains that Coach said this was going to happen.

So, Jack is bad at explanations, sometimes.

Ransom and Bitty find out, and tell everyone else, that one of the janitors, Manuela, had asked a favor from the coaches—if her son's youth team could host a practice or a clinic in Faber. And they could not say no.

From the way Ransom and Bitty are acting, it is easy to see why—if the coaches were anything like them at least.

The ice is dotted with cones, tape, as if the team is ready to line up for regular practice—except some of the stuff is tiny—minuscule—like the world shrunk to thirty percent of their size.

Which is kind of what happened, in a way, Holster thinks, as he watches the the kids stream out onto the ice. Bitty honest to god coos for thirty seconds straight out loud at the sight. Ransom rams his hands onto Bitty's shoulders, causing him to shake in surprise. Rans squeezes and he and Bitty grin together. Holster wonders if Ransom is holding back a coo, too.

To be honest, Holster was not totally jazzed about this, at first. He doesn't hate kids, he isn't an asshole. He isn't mad that Coach said yes, because this is a great opportunity to connect with the community members, and give back. All that is great. It's just that Holster is not very good with kids. He wasn't going to beg off, either, first of all, because Ransom was excited to go, and they're in this together. But also it's mandatory.

So here they are, with ten and eleven year olds swarming the rink, chittering, waffling between excited and nervous. The Samwell team run drills and have an overall fun field day with the kids.

Jack is surprisingly gentle with the kids. Before this, Holster expected Jack to ride the kids as hard as he ran their practices (and that it would end in disaster) but that did not happen. He was a perfectionist, still correcting form, stances, posture, and timing. But he did so very gently. They all stared at him, wide-eyed, like he was a hockey god, which, yeah. Maybe it's never too early to learn.

The bigger surprise of the afternoon, Holster soon sees, is how enthusiastic and sweet Ransom is with the kids.

It turns out that Ransom is great with kids. Even with knowing everything about each other, as they do, still, Holster didn't realize this about him. Ransom is a middle child—has an older and younger sister—so it's not like he had much practice at home. And all his little cousins, of which he has many, live pretty far away from where he lives, so he couldn't hang out with them too often. Maybe he is naturally gifted. That is unsurprising. Ransom is awesome at a great many things. It's easy for Holster to add this to the list.

It's not as easy to ignore the flapping and jittering in his stomach, evolving from butterflies, to and he doesn't even have a uterus to blame this biological clock phenomenon on. But maybe cis men also have biological clocks that makes them want to have kids. He doesn't want kids. He still doesn't feel totally comfortable around them. But he could learn from Ransom. And Ransom is amazing with kids. And if Ransom is there then everything is going to be okay kid-related to or not.

Oh my god.

So, yeah, maybe they aren't “in sync” or the “same person” on this particular issue, but it does make them a stronger team. Holster has eidetic memory of pop culture references, history, connections, and facts, and Ransom is.

Ransom is.

Wow.

Holster also learns that he is not so good with kids when they don't like him. But some of these kids seem to not _dislike_ him. He isn't so confident to think that they actually like him, he doesn't want to compete with Jack, Bitty, and Ransom for that.

But the kids warm up to Holster and Holster warms up to the kids. He just gives them the kind of praise he wanted as a child (and still wants now) and some of them respond really well to it. It makes him happy to make them happy and it makes him want to make them happy every more. And Ransom grins proudly very exchange, sharing secret encouraging looks with Holster, which does not hurt a bit, either.

When it's time for station switch, the kids don't want to leave, and they cling to Ransom like moss on a rock. And yeah it makes Holster want to coo himself.

So he does, at Ransom, when the kids skate away, and wave back at them like are on a boat in an old movie and leaving Ransom and Holster on the docks.

“You're like their new young cool hip hockey dad now,” Holster says, butting his shoulder into Ransom's.

“Nah,” Ransom says, but grinning, pleased and proud.

“They will remember this day for the rest of their lives.”

“Shut up.”

“Look at em,” Holster says, and he and Ransom watch their kids overwhelm Dex and Nursey.

Ransom makes an exaggerated sniffling noise. “They grow up so fast!”

After the clinic, and after some unexpectedly emotional goodbyes with the kids, the team goes out for dinner together. At the Haus, they play 2k, and after a while, Ransom gets up, presumably to go study. Holster is about to follow him—he never would be this studious if Ransom wasn't his best friend, but he should be grateful for it—but Rans shakes his head. “You can play if you want,” Ransom says. “You don't need to keep me company studying all the time.”

Holster stares up at him dumbly. “But I want to.”

Ransom shrugs. “It's up to you. I'm just saying don't feel obligated. If you want to play, then play.”

Holster sits back down but watches Ransom disappear down the hall and listens as he takes the stairs.

A pillow hits him in the face with a muffled whoosh. He turns, ready to tackle whoever his assailant was.

When the boys disperse, he goes upstairs, and hopes Ransom had the quiet alone time he needed, which is what he assumed Ransom was asking earlier, without really saying so.

Instead, Ransom is rolling the edge of his textbook page, folding it back and forth, and staring at the wall.

“Ransom?”

Ransom recoils, and Holster is about to chirp him for getting scared, but Ransom freezes with wide-eyed panic, like he was caught redhanded doing... Holster has no idea what.

“Oh hey,” Ransom says, too high pitched.

“Hey, how was studying?” Holster says, trying to figure out how to ask Ransom what he was doing but … he looks like he's been studying. Holster has nothing else to go on except a hunch that Ransom was up to something. Probably not enough to incriminate.

“Yeah, it was good. How was 2k?”

“Fine. The same.”

“Yeah.”

Holster takes the bathroom for his nighttime routine first and then gets in bed.

“Avatar?” he asks hopefully.

Ransom's face is yellow in the lamplight, shadow gaunt on his face. Ransom sighs and the shadows flicker. “Yeah,” he says.

Holster grins and watches Ransom tab all his study pages for tomorrow and tidy his desk—stacking folders and putting books back upright against the wall, the shadows dancing on and off his face. He gets up and goes to the bathroom.

Holster gets the episode ready.

“Did you watch any without me?”

“No, bro,” Holster says.

“Okay, because you know I would just make you rewatch it.”

“And I would love to do that! And I would never watch it without you.”

“Thanks, bro.”

They watch two episodes and then Ransom has to go to the bathroom again. Holster pauses and stares at the bottom of Ransom's bed.

“Look what one of the kids gave me.” Ransom says when he exits the bathroom. Holster spots a little friendship bracelet strung across Ransom's wrist.

“How did they make one so fast?”

“They probably had it from before, dumbass.”

Holster snorts. “They gave you some friendship bracelet that some other kid gave to them?”

“It was two kids on the team, and they both decided to give it to me. They said they would just make another one for themselves.”

“So now you're in their club,” Holster said.

Ransom shrugged, wide and smug. “Now I'm in their club.”

Holster smiled dopey and proud, when he should be chirping instead. “See, I told you that you made a lasting impact on them.”

Ransom gets back in bed with Holster, pleased and content. “It was so fun,” he grins. “They were so cute.”

Holster hovers the mouse over the pause button. “You are so good with kids, bro.”

“Aw,” Ransom says, like he's going to deny it, and then he does. “No not really.”

“You are, bro!”

“They liked you, too.”

Holster shakes his head. It's suddenly very important that Ransom understands this. “Kids like everybody, bro. But, they loved you.”

Ransom scrubs his face with his hand. Then he pushes Holsters shoulder halfheartedly. “Aw, dude.” He grins. “That makes me so happy that you would say that.”

Holster gets a lump in his throat. “Yeah, dude. I wouldn't say it if it wasn't true. Would you ever be a pediatrician?”

Dreams and a not-so-distant future dance in Ransom's eyes, flickering like shdaows behind a curtain. “Maybe! I don't know yet.”

“Well, you definitely could, if you wanted to. Those kids would feel so safe and be so healthy because of you.”

Ransom's eyes sparkle in the attic light. “Bro,” he says with feeling. Then he flicks the back of Holser's head. “Are you going to play the episode or not?”

Holster plays the episode, and his heart tumbles like it's on its way to cheer nationals.

Holster rides high on the peewee hockey stuff for a while. Ransom wears the friendship bracelet and everyone thinks Holster gave it to him which—well. If Holster gave it to him then shouldn't Ransom have given him one back? Anyway it's ridiculous and he isn't jealous of little kids. He is mostly proud of Ransom and it reminds him of a beautiful and perfect day where it was Ransom's time to shine with the kids.

So it's almost a perfect few days.

Probably because of this, it's just as soon that Ransom and March are both tabling for Phi DE. He lets himself think crazy thoughts like, is she legit trying to take his place as best friend right now? (It's probably not possible but still he would be offended if she thought she had a chance in hell.) Why/how are they in the same fraternity? No fraternity can outrank hockey. Except that this is a pre-med fraternity and the rest of Ransom's life, aka his career in medicine as a kickass doctor, is important so he feels crazy all over again.

So, yeah, he thought he moved on from being jealous of March to being jealous of fifth graders, but no, it was back. Back with a vengeance.

So, if he is just curious about PhiDE and checks out their Instagram page, and almost likes the pictures with Ransom in it (but he doesn't, since he doesn't know who is running the account and he is trying to be incognito about this) and then he sees some pictures with March and then he is on her Instagram page suddenly, and scrolling through, and making sure there are no pictures of Ransom, and trying to see if maybe there is evidence of a girlfriend or boyfriend.

So basically what he's saying is it's an accident. Not doing it on purpose, not actually track her down. Like, ew, that is a dramatic way of putting it. Perusing her public stuff on social media, which by nature, is out in the public for all to see. So he is doing nothing wrong. Plus, he isn't like he isn't like Dexter, who could actually hack into a database and do a deep search. (Dex claims he can't do that, but Holster is not convinced. He knows when the right buttons are pushed—which is not hard to do, poor guy—Dex would be able to do anything.

But his own low-tech search yield nothing to hate her for. He is a little dejected, but still willing and able to keep searching.

He is determined to keep searching.

Soon, he has to acknowledge that he came to college to play hockey (and study) and those things were not served by internet stalking probably innocuous pre-med students. He has a quiz to study for, an online problem set to complete, a textbook chapter to read, a discussion board post to write—he has a lot going on, and doesn't have the luxury of becoming a full-time one-man dark web investigator.

Holster gets a notification on his phone for a guest lecture which he is almost confused about for a second. He never goes to guest lectures. There aren't that many economics or business-related guest lectures at their school. Job fairs are more his time to shine and network. So this guest lecture has to be for Ransom. Holster texts Ransom to ask whether he is still going. Turns out its a good thing Holster put it in his phone.

Ransom is calling him.

“Hey man.”

“Hey! I totally forgot. I think I dismissed the notification on accident.”

“No problem. Do you want me to swing by the table and we walk together?”

“Okay—do you still want to come?”

“Yeah, bro. We were going to go together.”

“Okay! Some PhiDE people are going, too.”

“Cool. See ya in a bit. Love you bro.”

“Love you too.”

They hang up and Holster stares at his phone for a moment. Did Ransom's voice sound funny for a second? They always end their calls with I love you. Was he embarrassed about it because of the PhiDE people? Phi DE people AKA March. Gross. He feels the familiar burn of spite, protectiveness, and jealousy. Then he gets ready to go.

The PhiDE table is in front of the library and the lecture is in the student center auditorium, so they have a little bit of a walk.

When Holster walks up, no fewer than seven people are crowded around the table. He spots Ransom in between the bodies and smiles even though Ransom didn't notice him yet.

“Good recruiting day?” Holster asks. Everyone except for March and Ransom cranes their necks up at him, slackjawed and round-eyed.

“What, never seen a business major before?” he asks, not needing to get defensive about this (at all! Not one bit!) but doing it anyway.

“I think it's because you are tall,” March says, “and cute.”

“Ransom is tall,” Holster says immediately. He feels weight of everyone's bated breath, their expectation of the second shoe to drop. He burns like an egg on the sidewalk. “And Ransom is cute.”

“That he is,” March says, beaming, and Ransom's face twitches and flexes, morphing between mortified and embarrassed and like he wants to slither into the floor and hide but also kind of proud.

There's a lot going on today in Ransom-world apparently.

Holster wraps his knuckles on the table next to the clipboard. “So are we going or what?”

“Oh you're coming?” March asks. “Didn't think a business major would be into—“ and then she says some biochem STEM stuff that Holster has literally no idea how to decipher.

He grins. “Yup!”

March laughs, bright and loud. “Alright, then, we'd better head out.”

A few more PhiDE people rustle their stuff around, stretch, and take a few steps away from the table, like they are ready to leave, too.

“Is this a permanent fixture, or?” Holster picks up the clipboard and puts it back down on the table as Ransom gets up and stretches.

March shrugs. “The sophomores will take care of it.”

They leave three people, two guys and a girl, gaping in their wake as they head to the student center.

March asks him questions, and they have what on the outside would seem like a very normal conversation but for some reason Holster is on edge, alert for an ulterior motive. It's weird that March seems interested, in who he is, what he likes. Like weird levels of investment. It's fine, obviously, to take an interest in those around you, if you are a friendly normal person. But maybe she's just doing this to get on Ransom's good side. She and Ransom keep sharing secret looks and Holster has no idea what that is about. Treacherous chaos continues to crackle off of Ransom, as he lurches from pride and embarrassment, and something that's all of it mixed together.

Holster briefly wonders if she and Ransom will get married. Is this chemistry he is witnessing? Is it cute and electric but he just is so mad and jealous about it that he's not thinking straight? He tries not to scowl too noticeably but March gives him a surprisingly strong punch on the arm.

“It's only an hour!”

Oh that's what she thought he was mad about? He grins at her but it feels like there's needles being inserted one by one into his gums.

Nice!

Once they enter the student center, March seems to lose interest in Holster (finally). They file into the auditorium and they all sit in one row, the PhiDE kids, then March, then Ransom, then Holster. They are two minutes early despite the long walk, so the MC is already next the podium, talking to some professors, probably consisting of some Samwell professors and the guest lecturer.

Ransom nudges him and he stills his fingers. He doesn't realize he was tapping them. Ransom nudges him again and flashes his phone screen at him.

Holster gets his phone out of his pocket and has a text from Rans.

_R: BRO omg guess what I just discovered_

_H: ?_

_R: You have a CRUSH on someone....._

Holster jerked a little in his seat, elbows thudding against the tiny armrests.

_H: Bro_

_R: Bro do you like March?_

“What?” Holster asked out loud.

Ransom gave up the texting too, just in time for the MC to welcome everyone to the lecture series. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“Because I don't bro.”

“Oh, okay, I'm just saying, you would have totally had my blessing, bro.”

“Okay, not needed, but thanks, bro, good to know.”

By now a significant amount of people have turned around and are glaring at them so they quiet themselves.

Maybe Ransom is oblivious. Does that why he doesn't know March is into him? Or is he lying? But why?

Holster listens to the lecture and doesn't understand a single word of because they are always there for each other even if its for attending lecture series about things way over Holster's head.

Ransom always stays after guest lectures and asks questions and networks. Ransom doesn't like when Holster calls it networking because he thinks he will never be in the same field as this people or he will never see them again or it will never come up or be useful. But Holster knows it's only a matter of time before Ransom is staunchly in their circles and he knows he is going to see some of these people again—or even more important people. It is networking. Networking isn't a bad thing. It just means more and more people get to see how awesome Ransom is. Plus, Ransom is going to be traveling around to colleges giving guest lectures one day, soon. And Holster is going to be right there to see them, cheering him on.

He says as much, after Ransom asked all his smart questions, and introduced Holster to the speaker too. And they go through the usual, “oh, business, what are you doing here? Do you have an interest in (random niche STEM topic)” and Holster always has to say “yeah it seemed cool” or more honestly “I'm interested in whatever Justin is interested in.” (And sometimes, he doesn't even accidentally say Ransom—so, sw'awesome. But, if they get to talk about hockey for a few seconds, neither of them are complaining.)

And, like always, whenever he talks about Ransom's future guest lectures, Ransom gets all pleased and proud, and excited.

“Practice on me!” Holster says.

“What?” Ransom grins, “Now?”

“Yeah, it's like Vogue 75 questions but like with your research.”

“You are so dumb,” Ransom beams, tucks his shoulder and rams into Holster with 200 pounds of hockey muscle. Holster makes sure to exaggerate his stumble a little so it's more convincing when he calls “charge.”

And then they argue about whether it's a flagrant or not and Holster makes Ransom practice his presentation, and cheers loudly, obnoxiously, into the blooming sunset, and it embarrasses Ransom just a little, but mostly Holster is just happy to see the happiness refracting in a million directions. He feels each ray pierce his heart, his skin, and he smiles bigger under the darkening sky.

The other tragedy is, whenever Ransom comes back from hanging out with March, he comes back floaty, shy, and somewhere else. He's always thinking about something and sending little looks at Holster and smiling small and secretive and just being off in lalaland. Is he that infatuated with her?

He isn't always hopped up on unicorn sparkles. Sometimes the sparkles fade into something dark and pensive, worrisome, like a problem that Ransom can't figure out. Which first of all doesn't exist because Ransom can do anything he sets his mind to. Which is why Holster wants to figure out what it is—unless its like how to get March to like him. He doesn't want to help Ransom do that—figure out how to get March to like him. Which, first of all, everyone already likes Ransom, there's no need for Ransom to get all worried about it.

Holster would do anything for Ransom. He would gas him up and pep talk him, but it would feel just a little sad if he had to peptalk Ransom to ask out someone else—which. Okay. So does he want Ransom to ask him out?

He has been scared to think about it this whole time. But what else is there? He gets over his crush or asks out Ransom, gets rejected, and then has to get over his crush.

Two horrible, horrible options.

Ransom keeps hanging out with March and Ransom keeps hanging out with Holster and they keep going to class and hockey practice and they keep eating Bitty's pies and they have team dinners and they try to get Coach to bring Manuela's son's team back and they haven't convinced him yet but they are working on it. The other option could be to sneak into Manuela's son's practice but two strange dudes as a kids' sports practice? Not the best move, probably. So they figure they have a better shot at convincing Coach to cave.

Still, somehow, Holster has time to worry about things like how much Ransom likes March. If Ransom doesn't like March like that because he thought Holster liked March then they are just friends? He could just ask. To clarify. But then maybe Ransom would think he liked March which he definitely does not. Where did Ransom even get that idea? Is he crazy?

The next step is probably figuring out whether Ransom is going on dates—like real dates, not like hanging out and like being confusing and weird and playing stupid games. It's harder than he anticipated. It's not like he can ask where Ransom is going every single time.

Maybe it wouldn't have been weird before to ask but it feels weird now that he has an “ulterior motive.” Wow Holster feels like a supervillain now, in Rans' and March's cute perfect life that might not be a thing but he isn't totally for sure yet.

He doesn't know because it's none of his business and also they don't spend every waking second together despite what anyone else might have said or heard. But they never really had separate businesses before. Or at least that's what Holster thought. It just hurts that they are starting now. Ransom is entitled to whatever privacy he needs of course. Especially since it would be hypocritical of Holster to expect Ransom to tell him everything when he is hiding something possibly big, possibly nothing.

Holster wonders whether Ransom is seeking love elsewhere because Holster has not been loving him enough.

It is a chilling and horrifying revelation.

Has Holster not been attending to his needs as a human and a bro? Is he not loving his bro enough?

Holster understands it is technically unreasonable to expect one person to be enough for another person. That's why people have multiple friends and family members and a diverse support system.

It hurts because it felt like they were enough for each other, before. Before Ransom needed someone else—possibly March. Now that Ransom needs someone else, it feels like shit.

Maybe Holster had been selfish the whole time and didn't notice what Rans needed, that he needed other people in his life. Maybe he was too blind to see what Rans has always needed. It makes sense now that Rans wants new best friends, if Holster had been a shitty friend all along.

He doesn't know what the goal is—for Rans not to hate him, but maybe Rans doesn't hate him, maybe he accepted long ago that Holster was an idiot and decided to put up with it out of the goodness of his heart.

Oh no Holster feels like throwing up.

He can be a better friend. He is determined to be a better friend. Holster is an idiot but he is going to make it up to Rans one way or another.

Holster feels like he already does some best bro things. He already reminds Rans to take study breaks and they already alternate doing the laundry (they just do both of theirs together) and he already makes sure Ransom's coffee, power bars, and yogurt are all stocked up in the Haus. He needs to up the ante. He needs to magically think of something special and cute and fun. Something creative.

Something specifically and quintessentially that people only do for their favorite people. For their best bros.

This should be easy. Right?

Which to be fair some of the stuff they do is already only for each other. He's not trying to remind Chowder to do his laundry. He's not Chowder's mom.

He's not Ransom's mom either, obviously. But it's different. It doesn't feel like a chore to remind him. They just remind each other. It's for both of them. They are a team.

Laundry is boring and gross though, not special. It's not—well, it's not romantic, which, yes, it definitely is NOT romantic and it shouldn't be. Because they aren't like that.

But they are special to each other. Their favorite people to each other. They do stuff for each other they don't do for anyone else.

But he still should do something else special and fun. In a normal, best bro, favorite kind of way.  
  


Now that he's decided to do something (not that it's one thing, it's more of a series of things and lifestyle changes which hopefully will make him A Better Friend to Ransom) it feels like there is no time to do it. Which of course is not how best friendship works which makes Holster feel even worse.

Ransom has peer mentor meetings, Holster has to put out some fires (one of them literal) in the Haus. Just because Holster has a problem he needs to fix, means everyone has a problem they need him to fix.

A series of unfortunate and unrelated disasters manifest in a storm and Holster doesn't feel entirely comfortable letting the frogs and taddies deal with it all by themselves—and luckily, Holster has Ransom, who comes home just in time to see all the messes at once, and they split the list down the middle and attend to everything as best as they can.

When they finally trudge up the stairs to the attic Holster is pissed and tired. He just needs a break.

Holster gets ready for bed in silence. Ransom updates him on his half of the list and his voice soothes Holster a little but he wishes it was more. He snaps the covers over him, and cocoons inside, prepared to sulk to sleep.

“Bro, are you okay?”

“Yeah, just tired.”

“Aw.” Ransom pats his head. “Sleep tight, bro. See you in the morning.”

“I love you, bro,” Holster says, suddenly nervous to say something he says almost every day.

“I love you, too,” comes the swift and nonplussed reply.

Maybe everything is fine and Holster was making it all up? He tries to fall asleep focusing on the hopeful thought.

Holster tries to be extra nice and attentive to Ransom now that he's scared himself into thinking he is the devil. Ransom is always taken a little off guard every time, a puff of surprised breadth, and a jerk of eyebrows, and then bursts into a pleased smile with every compliment. Holster wishes it could be enough. But he is still so paranoid.

He hugs Rans every time he comes home, every time he walks in the door. Were they not hugging enough before? Or was hugging always Holster's thing? Holster is half sure that he is crazy but also half completely certain that he was the one pulling away in the first place and driving Ransom to other people.

Each time is great and wonderful because he loves Ransom except for when Ransom comes over and gives him a big bro bear hug. It feels specifically a bro hug which leaves Holster aching a little every time. Bros who are not attracted to their best bro are probably not supposed to chase the smell of aftershave on their bro. Or want to feel the soft hair at the nape of Ransom's neck.

“You smell good,” he says one day after their hug when Rans comes home from grading exams for the class he TAs for.

Ransom's face scrunches up. “Bro, I literally do not, I've been out all day.”

“Whatever you say, bro,” Holster says, wondering what and where the line was.

Rans raises his hands appeasingly. “No, no, if day old funk works for you, then it works. I support you, bro.”

“Shut up.”

Rans just smirks so Holster lunges threateningly which makes Rans brighten.

Holster is used to them spouting bullshit at each other which is why he is surprised when he is bringing his best shit-talking and chirping, Ransom says, too softly for how they are wrestling, “you always know what to say.”

“Right, I am quite the charmer.”

“You really are!”

As they tussle and chirp, Holster feels extra warm and gooey under Ransom's determined and fond expression. He smiles and tries to evade Ransom's finishing move then laughs when Ransom audibly “oof”s. Maybe they will be okay.

Holster thinks his little crush could be easily ignored. Other than that random flare up in the library, things have been going pretty smoothly. Except that now that he has the thought, he can't get it out of his head. What it would be like to date Ransom.

Life goes on as normal while he works very hard on his plan to forget his crush. He meets Ransom at the library, and they wait in line at the cafe together. They are reviewing hockey practice plays, brainstorming possible tub juice innovations, and planning their study sesh when someone says hi to Rans from a table.

They both turn and see March sitting at the table with near the room divider with her laptop and a textbook out in front of her.

“Aren't you going to say hi?” Holster asks because he is being super chill and everything is fine.

Ransom's eyes send his confusion and judgment like, “are you serious right now?” to Holster loud and clear. “I just did.”

“Okay, I just don't want you to be rude to your _friends.”_

“Okay, _Mom,”_ Ransom snorts.

They both check their phones until they get their drinks and then they go upstairs to their study spot.

They sit diagonally across from each other and spread out their materials.

“Sorry,” Holster says.

Holster feels Ransom's expectation press firmly into him, like it's backing him against a wall.

“For what?” Ransom asks.

“I don't know,” Holster says and Ransom's eyebrows crinkle, and he retreats into himself. He hunches over his books, shutting Holster out.

“No, I mean—sorry about—“ and now was the time Holster would have to come out and say it wouldn't he? “Sorry about March.”

Ransom's face is unreadable, unmoved. “What does that even mean?” he says into his textbook.

Holster tenses his body, sets himself steady, like he's ready to take a nasty check. “I'm just saying I'm sorry—that I'm being weird. Was being weird.”

Ransom looks like he's just solved the last and hardest problem in his assignment. “So you acknowledge that you are being weird?”

“I mean.” Holster suddenly remembers Ransom is the strategist between the two of them. Holster is always up for schemes—he loves scheming. But Ransom is the mastermind. He feels cornered, even though Ransom is an entire table length away, and they sit under one of the highest and most ornate ceilings on campus. “I guess. I mean, unless you don't think I was being weird.”

Ransom snorts softly. “No, I definitely felt it.”

Holster winces. “Yeah. Then I'm sorry.”

Uneasiness creases on Ransom's face. Silence settles between them, tense and stifling. Holster takes the out, ducks his head, and shuffles some papers around loudly.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Ransom asks and Holster flinches at the sound, like it's an assault.

Holster taps his thumbs on the table, rubs them together like he's a praying mantis. “Right here in the library?”

Ransom shrugs. “Unless it's a private conversation.”

“Maybe.”

His iced coffee is watery and warming. Ransom has downed his coffee and crushed the cup. It bore witness, mangled and jagged, to what was probably the most awkward study session Holster ever had.

Ransom is as disciplined as ever. Nothing can distract him—except Ransom slams his textbook closed seven minutes early and stands up with a rush. Holster gasped, crashing the T-Rex into the cacti on his browser.

Ransom jerks his head towards the wall.

Holster smiles, and follows suit, his arms and legs feeling heavy, like he's a puppet. He follows Ransom out of the library and back to the Haus like a lamb to the slaughter.

Silence follows them up to the attic. Ransom closes the door and the click lodges in Holster's throat.

They stare at each other.

“So,” Ransom says.

“So,” Holster agrees.

“Did March do something to you?” Ransom asks.

“What?”

“She is the only one of my friends that you don't like.”

It's probably true, but Holster says, “That's not true.”

“She asked me out you know.”

Holster wasn't prepared for this tactic. He jerks back. “I thought you said you didn't like her.”

“I don't. I turned her down. We're just friends.”

Holster nods along thinking maybe he should just come clean since they are having a big talk. He prepared himself for the possibility that he is going to do it. It's probably going to be fine. He has to trust Ransom and he has to trust himself.

Ransom's eyes bore into him molten, fudgy chocolate. “I like someone else.”

Okay, never mind, not saying anything, supporting Ransom. “Oh really who?”

Ransom looks like he wants to claw both of their faces off. “You, you idiot!”

“Oh.”

Holster tries to put all his anxiety into a tiny box so he can think clearly. But it took a lot of willpower to wrestle everything down—it was like hundreds of little hands and feet kicking and punching to open the box from the inside.

But then instead of trying to wrestle too many thoughts into submission, suddenly, all the thoughts left, a mass migration of consciousness. He's not even sure if he can detect a heartbeat. Maybe he is dead. Maybe he is in such denial of reality that he is literally ascending into a different dimension of existence.

Holster feels small and useless underneath the weight of expectation in Ransom's stare.

“That's it?” Ransom snaps, “Aren't you going to say anything?”

The anxiety pressing against the Holster's brain was “I mean. Really?”

“Yes! Aren't you going to say that you like me too?”

He says the only thing he knows is true. “I love you.”

Ransom crumples. “I love you, too, Holster.

Holster doesn't know whether to approach him or not. He knows he is in trouble and being a jerk and possibly being stupid. He needs to make this right.

“I thought you liked her,” he says trying not to make his voice sound too small and pitiful.

Ransom's lips twitch sadly. “I told you I didn't.”

“I know, but I thought you were just saying that because you didn't want me to know!”

“Why would I lie to you.”

Holster looks up, scared. “Because you thought I would be mad?”

Ransom reaches for him and Holster gratefully reaches back. Ransom envelops him in a hug and Holster sinks into it.

“You are really important to me,” Holster says into the corner joining Ransom's neck and shoulder.

“You are really important to me, too.”

“I just want to make sure I am treating you right and giving you what you need.”

Ransom leans back so he can hold Holster's gaze. “And same from me for you.”

Holster nods dumbly. He still feels like crying, feels raw and exposed.

Ransom must sense it. He takes Holsters hand and leads them to the bed. They sit down next to each other and Ransom still holds his hand. “Is that what you were worried about this whole time?”

“Yeah, man. I thought I wasn't—doing enough or being there for you or something.”

“What?” Ransom squeezes his hand. “Dude. I never thought any of that! You are an amazing best friend.”

Holster keep nodding. “I guess I got in my head about it. I'm sorry.”

Ransom slides his arm across Holster's shoulders, always touching him, always reassuring him.

“I'm glad you told me,” Ransom presses their heads together. “I wish you had told me sooner so that we could talk about and and you wouldn't have to worry so much.”

“Yeah. I'm sorry.”

“I'm sorry, too. I thought something was wrong but I didn't know how to bring it up. I know some stuff you have to do on your own but I want to be there for you and support you however I can.”

Holster presses his forehead against Ransom and slides into a hug again. He is so grateful.

They breath together. Holster thinks they might be okay.

Holster reads only love and affection in Ransom's eyes when they break apart. He feels a little safer. “I thought I needed to do some big gesture to show you I love you.”

“You show me that every day. And I hope I show you that too.”

“You do. I love you.”  
Ransom nudges him. “You don't have to worry about not being enough, Holster. I love you.”

Holster huffs out a shaky laugh. “I love you too. I guess that's what it was. I was just I thought you were looking elsewhere for stuff I should have been giving you.”

“I'm not looking elsewhere and you are giving me enough. No one can replace you Holster. I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

Ransom turns his smile down, pleased and secretive.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing. I'm just happy we're good.”

“Me, too.”

“I love you,” Ransom says.

“I love you too,” Holster says.

“You are so dumb.”

“Yeah, sorry.”

Ransom laughs and Holster feels light again.

“It's okay we are dumb together.”

“Yeah.”

They grin at each other and jostle each other.

“So, what should we do now?” Ransom asked.

Holster heats under Ransom's gaze. Maybe he had been ignoring the want this whole time. Now that he knows, he feels stupid (classic) that he hadn't noticed this whole time. How could he possibly think Ransom could want anyone else?

He blushes at the thought, embarrassed and unsure.

Then Ransom claps him on the back.

“Let's see what the boys want to do, eh?”

Holster watches Ransom get up, ducking under the bunkbed, and stretching out, tall and lean. Holster stares openly.

He appreciates the flex in Ransom's back until he realizes what the heck is going on.

“Are you serious bro?”

Ransom turns his head back, leer glinting dangerously and chirps dancing in his dimples. “Were you not appreciating it just now or what, bro, ”

Holster's heartbeat quickens. “Bro.”

Everything is almost the same as always for the next few days. They aren't mad at each other anymore, thank god. Things are no longer awkward and they are back to being their regular, in-sync best friends selves and better than ever.

Everything is almost the same, except for a few key moments. They accumulate over time, each moment a bright burning inferno blasting around his chest with infinite momentum, and they magnify into a dangerous weight, leaving him waiting for the big explosion.

When they first sit down next to each other, at breakfast, on the green couch, on the porch, in the grass, Ransom's gaze melts, softly caresses Holster's face. It's over in an instant, before regular Haus antics take over, before everyone else files and and everyone else's thoughts and words take over. But Ransom's face, his eyes, his lips, his cheekbones, are a constant image in his brain. All day he watches life like a movie he is disinterested in but his real focus is on Ransom, always on Ransom. And at the end of the night, after late night study session or coming home from the bars, during the last few minutes of a party before they turn in, when they are alone in the attic, getting ready for bed, when there's nothing else to focus on, to distract them, the intensity peaks and flares. Heat pulsates off Ransom, scorching Holster all the way through. Lava roils deep in his stomach and they both stare at each other's mouths, each other's bodies. Holster wants to do something—still isn't sure he is allowed. Why hasn't Ransom done anything? It feels like that's what they are waiting to do, their lives revolving around the future moment when they finally touch. It doesn't feel real, doesn't feel like Holster can actually have this.

It's the best and worst kind of secret, and it feels like he is living in a fever dream, exciting and confusing. They dance around this crush, circling and stalking, like big cats, and it has Holster's heart constantly thundering a sick electro-dance beat. It's the craziest most dramatic kind of cardio he wishes Jack would count as legitimate training.

Holster goes back and forth, confused and second-guessing, but on an upward trend of certainty. He knows Ransom wants him. He's going to do something about it now.

He takes extra time fit-checking Ransom, running his hands heavily down his shoulders, “smoothing out the wrinkles” and feeling Ransom barely resist squirming underneath. He rests his arm over Ransom's shoulders and draws him near during Haus movie night. He wrestles with weight and significance, holding eye contact and trying to telegraph with his eyes what he wants.

He takes Ransom's hand when they go up the stairs to the attic.

Ransom closes the door behind them, and Holster crowds him against it.

“I want to kiss you,” he says and Ransom is already putting his hands around Holster.

“Yes, finally,” he says, and they lean into each other, and Holster tries to put everything into this, the last few days, the last three years, and he feels Ransom giving it back to him.

Ransom grabs fistfuls of Holster's shirt and presses against him. He herds Holster to the bed, and falls on top of him.

“Why were you waiting?” Holster asks after Ransom moves from his mouth to his neck.

Ransom's lips press soft and delicate against Holster's jaw. “I wanted you to be ready.”

Holster arches into him and says, “I am ready.”

Ransom finds his lips and presses back just as hard.

“Okay, good,” Ransom gasps. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

They fall asleep cuddled together. In the morning, Holster wakes first and luxuriates in every inch of Ransom he touches, grateful for the quiet moments that his skin can soak in Ransom's. He thinks this could be it for him—he and Ransom, together forever. Ransom wakes, and Holster sees the same in his sleepy smile. He kisses him good morning.


End file.
